


Untitled

by kashmir



Category: Real Person Fiction
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-26
Updated: 2014-01-26
Packaged: 2018-01-10 02:23:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 381
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1153640
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kashmir/pseuds/kashmir





	Untitled

He's got gorgeous eyes, touchable olive skin and he'll slip effortlessly into Spanish at the oddest moments. Doing the dishes, watching some random program on television, while you're making love.

He sings in the shower, sometimes sounding just like Johnny Cash (again); other times belting out Ramones tunes or even, once, a Christina Aguilera song that you haven't let him forget to this day.

He sleeps on his back, arms flung upward, head tilted always to the right. He doesn't snore but his breath ruffles your hair and you nuzzle deeper into his neck, burrowing in his warmth.

He plays guitar when he's upset. Sits on the back porch and picks out tunes, smoking and brooding. You leave him alone when he gets like this, knowing he'll always come back in, kiss you on the lips and sit down beside you like nothing ever happened.

He listens to music when he's happy. Loud and bone-shuddering but always good music. He has inherently great taste in music and his collection of vinyl and CD's and mp3's reflect that. You can sit for hours with him when he's happy, the turn table spinning and song after song playing.

He won't watch himself on film. Gets up and walks out of the room, even if you're just flipping past and _Gladiator_ or _Signs_ happen to be on. He can't bear to see himself and you think it's endearing. You don't tell him that, though. Just quickly flip past and he'll be back in a few minutes. Always.

He calls his mother almost every day. His love for her is palpable but not so overwhelming you could accuse him of being a mama's boy. He buys her roses for her birthday, Mother's Day and Valentine's Day. She's the only Valentine he's ever had, he tells you. You are always slightly jealous when February fourteenth rolls around.

He has laugh lines around his eyes and you try your hardest to get him to show them all the time. You love his laugh.

He touches you often. Soft, fleeting touches while you cook dinner; firmer, meaningful caresses when you're in bed together or the shower. Touches every inch of your skin and you can always feel his imprint for hours after. His fingerprints are all over you.


End file.
